Missing
by susieq666
Summary: It's what looks like a routine murder, if there is such a thing. But an eight year old boy is missing. The clues seem to be coming thick and fast - it should be simple. But the crooks are amateurs, and bungle their getaway. They soon make things much worse for themselves. And for Horatio. And, despite their incompetence, getting them won't be as easy as it first seemed.
1. Chapter 1

MISSING

Chapter 1

Frank's call sounded routine. "Got a body for you."

"What you got?" Horatio felt inappropriately happy. He'd been clearing paperwork since half-six that morning. Having got behind, he had come in early to deal with it. After four hours, he was bored.

"Stabbing, adult female… That's all I know." Frank passed on the address. "Meet you there?"

"Okay. I'll grab Eric…"

He and his colleague travelled together, and met the detective at the small run-down property, a property already cordoned off.

"We've secured the place. No one there but the victim… Haven't touched anything. The ME's on his way."

Horatio nodded his approval and they pushed the front door open. "No forced entry here…" he murmured. "Eric, have a quick look round the outside, then join me."

He observed a modest, even shabby interior, but one neatly kept, apart from signs of a brief struggle, a table overturned, a broken mug. The body, on her back, was that of a white woman, probably in her thirties, a pool of blood round her head, from an obvious wound in her neck. Horatio bent down, looking but not touching. It seemed clear she'd died quickly, and he could see only the one wound. There would probably have been arterial spray, but, if there was, it was unclear on the old patterned carpet. Or, he thought, most of it on the killer…

He turned as the ME appeared behind him. "Tom…"

"Horatio. Lovely day." He flushed. "Well, not for her, of course."

"Of course. But you're right. It's much less humid than usual." He stood up to allow Tom Loman access.

"Mm… Stab wound, severed the carotid, I would say. She'd have bled out very quickly."

"There's no sign that she moved."

"She may have passed out immediately."

"Let's hope so. Any other wounds?"

The ME gently rolled the body. "Not that I can see. Not even defensive wounds. It must have been very quick. I'll try to give you a rough time of death."

Horatio watched as Tom took the liver temperature.

"Two to three hours ago… Nothing much more I can tell you at the moment."

"Okay, Tom, take her away."

Eric came back in. "Nothing obvious outside," he said quietly. "No windows forced or anything, and the ground's too hard for footprints."

The three men stood respectfully as the doctor and his assistant bagged the body and moved it to a gurney, before wheeling it out to the van.

"Right, Eric, start processing down here," Horatio said briskly. "I'm going to take a look upstairs."

"I'll go talk to the neighbors," Frank added. "Hope we've got a nosy one."

Horatio walked carefully up the stairs, keeping to one side, in case there was evidence there. The main bedroom was neat, the bed made. Impossible to tell from a glance whether one or two people slept there, but there were no signs of anything untoward. He moved into a second bedroom and frowned. Clearly a child's, a boy's. It was a mess, but no more than many kids' bedrooms, he supposed. He assumed – hoped – the boy was at school. He felt a brief dread at the thought of the news he'd have to break later.

The bathroom revealed only a towel on the floor, an open toothpaste tube… He went back downstairs to help Eric.

"Anything?"

"What you'd expect – loads of fingerprints… There is a clear print on the doorbell push. Might have been her last caller."

"She had a son."

"Yeah? He's not here, is he?"

"At school, I hope."

Frank came back in, his expression grim. "We've got a problem…"

"More than a murder?" Horatio raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah… A missing boy. The neighbor said he wasn't waiting for the school bus this morning – she thought he must be sick. I called the school. He never showed up."

"Oh hell… What else did you find out?"

"Her name's Hannah Robbins. The boy's eight – Timmy."

"Any man on the scene?"

"Don't think so. Separated from her old man… Just her and the boy… Decent woman, as far as I can gather. Oh, and a possible lead on a vehicle. Although that was yesterday evening. They didn't see or hear anything this morning."

Horatio thought quickly. "Okay, Frank. We'll stay here – see if we can find anything. Can I leave the car and the husband to you? Keep me informed."

"Will do."

He turned to Eric. "We're going to have to process the whole house – I rather hoped it was confined to this room… But if the boy was taken… I looked into his room – it's a mess, but no more than any small boy's…"

"Likely to be the husband, isn't it?"

"That's a bit of an assumption, Eric! It could be… Equally, she could have a boyfriend… Or it could be a stranger."

"Robbery gone wrong?"

"Look at the place - doubt she had anything worth stealing. Come on, let's just collect the evidence. You carry on down here. I'll do the boy's room." He went back upstairs.

Two hours later, they headed back to the lab, with dozens of fingerprints, blood samples, photographs, the bedding from both beds, the woman's address book, and a cell phone.

While Eric went out to buy some lunch, Horatio sought out Frank.

"Anything?"

"Nothing useful," the detective replied. "One of my guys is bringing the husband in for a chat. I hear he's got an alibi, and he seemed genuinely shocked… Keen to co-operate. My gut tells me he's clean. But I could be wrong."

"Not often, Frank."

"I've got a BOLO out on red Durangos, but we don't have a license plate. You get anything?"

"Like you – nothing useful. Yet. But we've brought loads of stuff back – we may get some good results. I feel I should be doing something to find the boy, but I've got no idea where to start." He smiled. "And I must get something to eat, or I'll pass out. I skipped breakfast."

"Go on. Keep me up-to-date."

"You too."

After a speedy lunch, and two cups of coffee, Horatio went to chase his lab techs, and catch up with the ME. Within hours, he knew more about his victim, and the crime. DNA proved that Hannah slept alone – no boyfriend. The fingerprints were difficult to separate – there were so many – but ultimately most were eliminated as Hannah's. Making some assumptions, about size and position, they eliminated many more as Timmy's. It left them with five others. Eric ran them, finding two results.

"Hardly hardened criminals…" he murmured to Horatio, who was leaning over his shoulder. "One long-ago traffic offense…"

"And one petty thief… We'll check them out, even so. You go and see the traffic guy. I'll look for the other one – there's no current address on him. Which one was on the bell push?"

"Neither. That one's unidentified. But it's that sort of area, isn't it? I expect neighbors come and go all the time."

Meanwhile, the blood evidence began to yield results. Mostly Hannah's as expected, but an unidentified smear of someone else. So they had DNA, maybe a print. Tom Loman confirmed the weapon as probably a hunting knife. But they had no suspects.

Horatio was debating going back to the scene, to re-interview the neighbors, when Frank rang. "Got the husband here. Wanna come down?"

He cautiously concurred with Frank's earlier opinion. The man certainly seemed distraught. "Find Timmy. Please find my son."

"We're working on it. Tell me about your wife."

"What's to tell? She was an ordinary kind working woman. Not the sort to invite anything like… this."

"Why did you split?"

"I don't really know. We just… fell out of love, I suppose… We might have got back together… I don't know."

"Was it amicable?" Horatio asked gently.

"I suppose. I saw them quite a lot."

"No disputes about money? Access to your son?"

"Access – she never stopped me seeing him. Money – what money? I'm a janitor. She's – she was – a care worker. She stayed in the house, I'm in a crappy single room. Look, detectives, I'd never hurt them. Please find Timmy."

"We will. When did you last see them?"

"Last weekend. Please, we're wasting time!"

Horatio and Frank stepped outside. "What do you think?" Frank asked.

"Not sure. He seems genuine. You say he's got an alibi?"

"He's offered anything we want. DNA, access to his residence… We'll follow those up… But I don't think it's him."

"I'm sure you're right." Horatio sighed. "Nothing on the red Durango?"

"Pal, there are dozens of red Durangos out there! We're doing our best. What next?"

"Thought I'd see if I can find Timmy's friends. Kids are quite observant. If anyone's been hanging around…"

"The lady next door's got a boy." Frank glanced at his watch. "School should be out by now."

"Wish me luck."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

MISSING

Chapter 2

Horatio drove back to the cordoned off residence. A single police cruiser was keeping guard. A small group of local women stood together, pointing and gossiping.

Horatio parked the Hummer, nodded to an obviously bored cop, and walked up to the next-door house, noting the women falling silent. As he raised a hand to knock, a woman came running up behind him.

"I'm here. It's my house…"

"Ma'am…" He introduced himself.

"I told your guy this morning that I didn't see anything."

"I know, and we're grateful for your co-operation. I hoped I might talk to your son."

She seemed surprised, then looked back up the road and yelled, "E-THAN!" at a volume that made Horatio wince. But it had the desired effect when a young boy came running over. "This man wants to talk to you. Mind you're polite."

She ushered them both inside. The house was very similar to next door. Slightly messier. Horatio sat down. "Ethan, were you friends with Timmy?"

"Suppose."

"And what were you into? Did you play sports?"

"Nintendo…"

Horatio nodded. "Did you play outside much?"

His mother chipped in. "I try to get him outside in the fresh air… He prefers his computer."

"When you were outside," Horatio persisted, "did you see anyone you didn't know, hanging around here? Or the school?"

The boy shook his head. "There are lots of people I don't know."

"Did anyone you don't know come and speak to you? Or to Timmy?"

Again, a headshake.

"You know what he means, Ethan," his mother snapped. "Creepy men. Like I've told you about."

"Ma'am, please… Let the boy think."

"I saw dopey Robert," the boy muttered. "He said hello." Then, in an obvious imitation, "Hell…ooo…"

Horatio hid a smile.

"He means Robert from number eighty-four. He's harmless – does a bit of gardening, odd jobs. He's a bit short… up top…" She tapped her head.

"Did he do work next door?"

"He has done, I think. But Hannah didn't have the money really."

"Why did you remember the Durango? The red car?"

"Oh, Jim – my husband – noticed it. He wants one." She laughed. "When we win the lottery!"

"What was it doing?"

"Nothing really. Just driving slowly. Looking for a house, I thought."

"Did you see the driver?"

"A man. On his own, I think. That's all I noticed."

"A white man?"

"I think so."

He talked to them a bit longer, learning more about Hannah Robbins, while allowing Ethan to think about his questions. But he got little more from them. The only thing that piqued his interest was the neighbor's singularly low opinion of Hannah's husband. But it was just that – an opinion. He drove to number eighty-four, met 'dopey Robert', felt in his own mind that the childlike man was harmless, but took fingerprints and DNA from him anyway.

He glanced at his watch. Nearly six, and he was getting nowhere. He got into the Hummer, but didn't immediately start the engine. Thinking… His cell phone bleeped.

"Frank?"

"Just had a report that might interest you. Patrol got into a chase with a Durango. It took off into the 'glades."

"Did you catch it?"

"In a manner of speaking. The cruiser got left behind on one of the tracks…" He chuckled. "They weren't built for rough terrain. But he found the Durango nose-down in a ditch. The occupants had bailed, unfortunately. He had a look round but couldn't find anyone." He gave Horatio the location. "Oh, and the plates are false."

"That's in the middle of nowhere. They have to be around."

"Wait. I haven't told you the best bit. There's bloody clothes in the car…"

"I'm going out there."

"Horatio, it's going to get dark – I've already arranged to have it brought in."

"That's fine, but I want to see the site."

"Well, take some company – we don't know what we're dealing with."

Horatio called Eric. "Where are you?"

"Just pulling into the lab. Traffic-offense guy's clean. He admitted being in the house – he was buying some toys she was selling."

"Want a road trip?" Horatio explained the circumstances. "Meet me out there. And keep your eyes open. The occupants are out there somewhere."

The vehicle was still in the ditch when he arrived. He greeted the patrol officer. "Well done on spotting him."

"Couldn't miss him, Sir. He saw me and took off like a bat out of hell. I'm just sorry I couldn't apprehend them, but I couldn't keep up on this surface." He grinned ruefully. "I'm going to be in trouble anyway – I've pulled half the muffler off."

"I'll put in a good word. You said 'them'. More than one?"

"Two men. But I didn't get a good look."

They looked round as Eric's Hummer pulled up. Horatio smiled at him. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."

"You sign the overtime slip, boss, and I'm happy."

Horatio turned back to the patrol officer. "Is your vehicle driveable? If so, you can get back. We'll wait for the recovery truck."

The man left gratefully, the cruiser rattling noisily, making Eric chuckle.

"Right, let's see what we've got."

The Durango had gone off the road hard enough to fire the airbags. "We'll get trace off these," Eric murmured. "Oh, wow… look at this…" Pulling on gloves, he extracted a shirt from the foot well. It was soaked in blood. A blood-stained hunting knife fell out of the clothing as he unrolled it.

"Put the stuff in your car – we can get onto it first thing tomorrow. But where the hell were they going?"

"And where are they?" Eric stared round at the surrounding brush.

"More than that – where's the boy?" Horatio managed to get the back door open. "Smell that."

"Urine. You think the boy was in here…"

"I do. I can't figure this out at all." He sighed. "Take anything loose from the car – we'll process it properly at the lab. I'm going to have a look round."

"You take care…"

Horatio drew his gun and walked carefully up the track, then into the scrub. Eric quickly put the evidence into his Hummer, then followed him.

"Footprints…" Horatio murmured. "Cast them, will you?"

"Will do, boss."

But the footprints faded out, and Horatio suspected the men and their hostage were long gone. Where to, was another question…

The recovery truck rumbled up the track, and they watched as the damaged Durango was pulled out and onto the trailer.

As it pulled away, Horatio gripped Eric's arm quickly. "I think I dragged you out on a wild goose chase. There's nothing here that we couldn't have found at the lab."

"Well, footprints. But it's no problem anyway." As the sound of the truck receded, the various sounds of the Everglades became audible. It was getting dark. Night sounds… Rustles, little animal noises… Eric shivered. "Do you feel we're being watched?"

"Yeah. Time we got out of here." He watched Eric get into his Hummer. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll get in early."

Horatio leant against his own vehicle, as his colleague's pulled away. He was frustrated, but he was also exhausted. Oh well, back to the lab, sign out, swap cars… Maybe get something to eat. He still should be in bed before midnight. He looked round once more and shivered. The fine day had turned into a very cold night. The light suit he wore in the Florida heat was no protection against a cold evening. He opened the Hummer door, hoping the rarely-used heater was working.

He caught a slight movement behind him, but before he could even reach his weapon, he felt a blinding pain on the back of his head and everything went black.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

MISSING

Chapter 3

Eric arrived at the lab at seven the next morning. He glanced at the board and confirmed – he'd noted the car in the parking lot - that Horatio had beaten him in. He smiled, fetched his kit and a lab coat, and went down to the garage. He began to go carefully over the Durango, retrieving traces of skin from the airbags, as well as fingerprints and blood trace. Then he turned his attention to the rear compartment.

He swabbed the patch of urine, and found more fingerprints and a smear of blood. He glanced at the time. It was after nine, and he wondered what Horatio was up to. He had expected him to be down here, helping.

He opened the bent hood, wincing at the screech of tortured metal, and looked for the VIN plate, but, as he had expected, it had been removed. On an impulse, he rang a local Dodge dealership, and asked whether the Durango carried a second VIN. After being passed round various departments, he finally got a mechanic who sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.

"It has, but it's well-hidden."

"Just tell me."

"You need to jack it up. Go back to the third cross-chassis member, and it's on the right hand side, facing the back. Usually obscured by mud."

Eric chuckled and thanked him. He jacked the car and slid underneath. The underside of the vehicle was caked in mud. Despite getting debris in his face and mouth, he found what he was looking for.

He noted the number, brushed himself down, collected all the samples he had, and went up to the lab. Bumping into Calleigh, he asked. "Do you know where Horatio is?"

"I haven't seen him. The board says he's in the field… Do you need him?"

"No. Just expected him to be all over our car."

"Oh, your missing boy. I heard about it. Are you getting anywhere?"

"Yes and no. Prints and DNA – evidence that the boy was in the car. Alive. But no real lead to the perps. And no motive that I can see. I can see motives for grabbing a child, but killing the mother? The two things don't really go together. They could easily have found a time when the mother wasn't around."

"What's Horatio think?"

"We haven't really talked it over. It was so late last night…"

Eric called Horatio's cell, but got voicemail. He went to Reception.

"You seen the boss this morning?" he asked.

"No, he must have gone out very early."

"If you see him, tell him I need to speak to him. His phone's off." Eric was mildly worried, though not sure why. There was no reason that Horatio _shouldn't_ be out, but it was unusual that he hadn't told anyone. He passed the VIN number to Frank, but the detective knew nothing of Horatio's whereabouts.

Eric sighed, but went back to work on his new samples. Wherever the boss was, he'd be expecting results when he came back in. As lunchtime approached, he found his concern overtook his concentration, and went back to Calleigh.

"Have you found him?" she asked.

Eric shook his head. "No answer on his cell. Or on his landline at home. He might take a bit of time for something personal, but no one's seen him this morning. That's at least five hours. If it was to do with the case, he'd let someone know. And he never keeps his phone off."

"You think something's wrong. Where and when did you see him last?"

"In the middle of the 'glades, last night. We were in separate vehicles." Then he gasped. "Oh dear God, don't say he never got back!"

"You mean the board's still showing from yesterday?" Calleigh looked aghast. "I'll ring the night shift boss – he might know if he came back in." She pulled out her cell and dialled. It rang for a long time. "It's Calleigh – day shift – I know I've woken you up, but it's urgent. Did you see Horatio last night? It would be about…" She looked at Eric. "Between nine and ten?"

He nodded.

Calleigh listened then closed the phone. "They didn't see him. But they might not have done." She grabbed Eric's hand. "Come on – let's get Frank involved. If he's out there, the Hummer's out there. We find that…"

Frank looked as shocked as they felt. "Well, there wasn't an accident… I'd sure as hell have noticed one involving a CSI Hummer." He stared at them. "You _certain_ he's missing?"

"No, I'm not. That's the trouble. But he's never out of touch like this. Not for so long."

"I agree. Well, first, let's see if the Hummer's where you last saw it. I'll get someone out there." Frank picked up a police radio, then put it down. "That's too slow – I'll get a helicopter up."

Eric couldn't stand still. "We've still got a missing boy…"

"I'll take the case," Calleigh said quickly. "I know your mind's on Horatio. Look, come and get me up to speed on it, while Frank does his thing."

Frank came to find them. "Hummer's gone. Chopper says visibility's quite poor out there." He glanced out of the window. Unlike the day before, it was overcast and raining lightly. "It would be. He's doing a sweep of the area – see if he can spot it – or anything else."

"Thanks, Frank." Calleigh looked back at Eric. "Who'd steal such an obvious vehicle? They'd be spotted, picked up."

"Crooks aren't necessarily bright, Calleigh. Anyway, maybe it's with Horatio." Eric ran a hand over his short hair, shedding mud and dust from the car. "I just wish we _knew. _Is he missing or not? Is the car missing?"

"I think we have to assume he is," Calleigh said gently. "This is so out of character. Look, I've got your case now. You go and work with Frank. Keep me informed though, won't you?"

Eric disappeared gratefully to the police department. He felt guilty at abandoning a murdered mother and a kidnapped child so easily, but he knew his present state of mind would do them no favors. Not till he knew Horatio was okay. If it was all a false alarm, he was quite ready to apologise later.

Frank was on the phone. He put it down as Eric approached.

"Sorry, Frank, I've come to pester you…"

"The chopper's found your Hummer. He says it looks abandoned, possibly stuck. No one around. It's a couple of miles from where you last saw it."

Eric felt sick at the thought of what might be inside that Hummer.

Frank read his thoughts. "Don't think the worst yet. We don't know what's going on. Now, the chopper's coming back to pick you up. Take one of my guys with you." He looked round the office, and shouted. "Benitez? You okay with helicopters?" He summoned a burly uniformed officer. "Go with Delko – he'll fill you in. The pilot says he can land you about half a mile away. Best we can do. You okay with that?"

Eric nodded.

"Go on, get down to the helipad. He'll be back any minute. And for God's sake, take care!" He called the last words after the two disappearing figures.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

MISSING

Chapter 4

The pilot flew them over the vehicle, then landed in the nearest suitable clearing.

"Do you want me overhead, or shall I wait here?" he shouted, over the noise of the engine.

"Wait here."

An eerie silence fell as the engine slowly powered down. The pilot pointed. "About a half-mile in that direction. If you get lost, shout."

There was no track. They pushed through undergrowth and scrub. It had stopped raining, but everything was dripping, and soon they were soaked. Eric was conscious of ignoring all the precautions they normally took against snakes and suchlike. At least larger animals would have been scared away by the helicopter. They saw the Hummer ahead. Eric withdrew his gun. Benitez did the same. They approached as silently as they could.

Eric rapped sharply on one of the windows, then immediately ducked down. "Anyone in there – show yourself!"

Silence.

Carefully, he reached up to the door latch and opened the unlocked vehicle. He had to fight his own momentary hesitation, his heart pounding, before he stood and looked inside.

Empty.

Eric murmured, "Thank God…" and leant against the car for a moment in relief. He felt obliged to explain to the officer watching him. "I thought I might be looking at a body." _His body_.

At a glance, the interior looked pretty normal. No real signs of a struggle. At least, not inside. The ground was wet, and the Hummer well bogged down. He knew, for a certainty, that Horatio would never have driven it here.

"Delko?" Benitez called from the other side of the car. "You want to see this. Looks like someone had a fight."

There was a mass of footprints, all directions, overlapping. Clearly a fracas of some sort… Eric reached over them to open the driver's door. He immediately noticed a small patch of blood on the doorframe, with a few hairs stuck to it, and winced. The hairs were red.

He returned to the footprints. Eventually the melee faded to a line of prints, the wet ground clearly showing four people. He followed them, getting a picture of what had happened. Three adults, one child. One set of prints seemed odd, tottery, occasional drag marks. He followed them a little further, but the ground was getting dryer, the marks less distinct. He caught sight of fabric, a jacket, tossed into the bushes. He retrieved it and recognised it only too well. Black, a designer label inside… the sleeve torn half out of the armhole. So he'd struggled again. The footprints faded out.

"Horatio!" Eric took a chance and shouted. "Horatio!"

Nothing. He had an instinctive feeling that if their captive was too much trouble they'd abandon him. Or kill him. But not too near the Hummer – too easy to find…

He walked on a little. No tracks now.

He called again, but only a bird's alarm call answered him. Reluctantly, he turned back towards the Hummer.

"The tracks fade out," he told Benitez. "They took him, but he was struggling." He forced a smile. "At least he was alive… then. Dear God, it could have been twelve hours ago…"

"What do you want to do?"

"Search. Find him. But we need more people. He could be anywhere…" Eric sat on the running board of the Hummer and called Frank. He told him what they'd found. "God knows how we get the Hummer out. It's up to its axles."

"Don't bother about that," Frank said briskly. "We'll work something out. You think they took Horatio with them?"

"I know they did. But he was fighting – it's obvious. My thinking – they'll dump him. He's a big guy to drag through here restrained, or unconscious." _Or dead._ He couldn't bring himself to voice it. "My thinking, they'd get far enough away from the vehicle, then leave him. But we haven't heard from him, which means he's… incapacitated." He knew Frank was thinking the same as him. But, even if he was dead, they needed to find him. "We need a search party, Frank."

There was a brief silence. "All right. As many as I can spare. It'll take about an hour to get there. You staying put?"

"Of course."

"A search needs doing logically, Eric."

"I know. We'll go over the Hummer. I'll send the chopper back, shall I?"

"Yep. Get the pilot to give me the location – meet my guys in the clearing in an hour."

"Thank you, Frank. I know you're sticking your neck out…" He could only imagine how much – a helicopter _and_ a search team, based on what? His hunch?

"One, it's Horatio, and two, I've got a tough neck."

"Oh, and tell Calleigh they've got the boy with them." He was ashamed that he'd forgotten that case completely.

"Will do."

Eric looked up at Benitez. "They're sending a search party. Run back and tell the chopper he can go home. And get him to call Frank Tripp now, with the co-ordinates of that clearing."

"Where will you be?" The man sounded a little nervous.

Eric smiled briefly. "Right here, don't worry."

Alone, he dropped his head to his hands, and pushed his fingers through his wet hair. Suppose he was way off the mark? Suppose they'd got Horatio hidden somewhere? He was relying purely on instincts, and he knew they could be disastrously misleading… Still, if they didn't search, they wouldn't know. He tried to put himself in the place of the bad guys. Eric knew this part of the 'glades fairly well and he couldn't think of any shelter nearby, no cabins or campsites… He thought, if it was him, he'd try for the nearest road… Which, from memory, was about four miles away. He couldn't imagine dragging an unwilling Horatio four miles over rough ground.

He sighed, got up, and climbed into the Hummer. He had no kit with him, but he wasn't looking to process it anyway. He _knew_ who had been in it. He looked carefully round it. Nothing out of place, bar a roll of duct tape on the floor, which didn't belong there. He picked it up and put it on the dash, then got out of the driver's seat, and into the back. There were traces of mud, and blood, on the back seat. He assumed the hostages had been lying there. Something caught his eye, pushed between the back and the seat. Something metallic… Poking his fingers into the narrow crevice, he pulled out Horatio's badge. He brushed dust off the gilded surface. "Oh, Horatio…" he murmured, smiling despite his worry. A clear message – 'I'm here.' And at least it hadn't fallen into the wrong hands. He couldn't hope for the same with his gun.

He heard the helicopter start up, and, moments later, saw it lift into the air. Now he just had to wait. When Benitez returned, he found he was glad of the company. They checked the rear section of the Hummer, but the expensive equipment it housed appeared untouched.

"Thought they'd have had a go at this," he murmured. "It's worth a fortune."

"I suppose they had their hands full," Benitez replied.

"I'm sure they did. They wouldn't recognize this stuff anyway. And you could hardly sell it on eBay. Mind you, I don't understand anything these guys have done…"

"In what way?"

At least talking passed the time. "Well, they took the boy, but why kill the mother? Why not snatch him from school? Why not dump the bloody clothes and the weapon? Why run into the 'glades? All right, they wrecked their car, so the Hummer represented a way out, but why on earth take Horatio with them? And why drive the damned Hummer into the middle of a bog? They're beyond stupid! Perhaps that's why they seem so difficult to find – stupid means unpredictable."

"Not the brightest…"

"Definitely not. They've done so many stupid things we should have them in a cell by now. Instead of that, we're missing one police lieutenant, and one eight year old boy."

"And two crooks."

They fell silent for a while. "I wish we'd brought some coffee," Eric muttered.

The rain started again. They got into the Hummer for shelter.

The hour passed torturously slowly, but at last they heard the rumble of vehicles. They went back to the clearing as a cruiser and a minibus pulled in. Eric was pleased to see that Frank had come himself. Five police officers got out of the bus, all wearing waterproofs, and stood waiting for instructions.

Frank came up to Eric. "How you doing?" His voice was unusually sympathetic, and Eric thought he probably looked as bad as he felt.

"Honestly, Frank? I feel sick. Sick that he might have been lying out here for over twelve hours. And sick that I might be on completely the wrong track, and we're looking in the wrong place."

"Don't worry about that. Let's get this search started."

As he went back to his men, a Hummer pulled into the clearing, and Calleigh exited. She came up to Eric, and kissed him on the cheek.

"If he's here, we'll find him," she said softly. She registered his surprise at seeing her. "You said the boy's with them, so we might find him too. So my case is your case."

He smiled, not entirely believing her, but overwhelmingly glad of her support. Frank speedily issued instructions, maps, and the latest headsets.

"Remember, everyone can hear everyone else, so speak if you've got something to say," the detective said bluntly. "Otherwise, button it. Don't tread on any snakes. And be thorough."

The search began.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

MISSING

Chapter 5

They had been searching for an hour. It was slow painstaking work in this terrain. They were working in a fan shape, using the direction of the footprints as a guide. Frank had allocated a section to Eric and Calleigh, and, with the airwaves open, they worked in silence. They could hear, over the intercom, the sounds from other searchers, crackling of twigs, rustling, the occasional muttered curse.

Then, suddenly, startlingly loud, "Baker to Tripp…"

And Frank's Texan voice. "What, Baker?"

"We've found him, Sarge." The man sounded shaken.

"Position? Right, on my way. Everyone stay put."

Eric and Calleigh stared briefly at each other.

"You know the way?" Calleigh asked, ignoring Frank's last words.

Eric nodded. Together, they crashed through the scrub, small branches whipping painfully against skin. It wasn't far. There were three PD officers, standing staring at the ground. The body, face down, was dirty, scratched, but not heavily bloodied. He was clad only in tee shirt and undershorts. The pale freckled skin and red hair were unmistakeable.

Calleigh gasped, then fell to her knees beside him. Dead… Had to be - no one was touching him… She reached out a shaking hand, touching his neck. The skin was cold. And yet… Automatically, she felt for the carotid pulse…

Eric knelt the other side of the body, his face anguished. "Is he..?"

She shook her head. However much she wished it… Then she felt the faintest throb under her fingers. She frowned and stared at Eric.

"Something?"

"I don't know. I thought…" She repositioned her fingers and pressed again. And again felt the faint pulse. "He's alive!"

Frank arrived, panting a little.

"Calleigh?"

"There's a very faint pulse. Get Rescue!" She looked at Eric, who seemed momentarily paralysed. "Help me."

Together they turned him over. His face was gray, scratched… Eyes closed. She leant close. She couldn't feel his breath.

Eric murmured, "Are you sure? He's not breathing…" He picked up a limp arm, feeling for a pulse there.

"Anything?"

Eric nodded slowly. "I think so… I'm not sure… It's hardly there… I could be imagining…"

"He's icy cold."

"If he's been out here all night…"

"Have we got blankets? Anything?"

She looked round at the horrified faces, but Frank quickly took charge. "Fetch whatever you've got. Quick as you can." They seemed glad to get away.

Eric slid his arms round his boss's body and eased him into his arms, rubbing his shoulders, using all he had - his own body heat - to try to warm him. "Is he injured - that you can see?"

Calleigh gently ran her hands over the cold body. "No - few scratches - no major bleeding. Is he breathing?"

Eric nodded. "Very faintly. We're going to lose him any minute, Cal…" His voice broke.

"We're not going to lose him. Just hang onto him, Eric."

Frank, still on the phone, tapped her on the shoulder. "They're sending an air ambulance in."

She nodded. An officer came running back with a couple of reflective blankets. Together, they wrapped him and lowered him back to the ground. Eric looked at his hand, which was blood-smeared. He gently parted Horatio's red hair.

"He's got a head wound…"

"Shot?"

Eric shook his head. "He's been whacked on the head. There was blood and hair on the Hummer."

"Is he still…?"

Eric leant forward, his face against Horatio's. "He's breathing… Just…"

After what seemed an interminable time, they heard the air ambulance arriving, but it still took fifteen more minutes - with Eric and Frank helping to carry the stretcher, and Calleigh running alongside - to get Horatio into the helicopter.

"Go with him, Eric." She watched it lift off, wondering, momentarily, if her boss was actually still alive.

* * *

Back at the lab, Calleigh tried desperately to concentrate on the case. If anything happened, Eric would call… Meanwhile, she was in charge, and they had a missing boy, and a murder to solve, and… Her thoughts drifted back to Horatio. Horatio, closer to death than to life. _Concentrate, damn it…_ Needing someone to help her do that, she went to find Frank. She wasn't sure why she went to him, rather than one of the team, except that she knew he would understand.

The detective was sitting at his desk, staring, unseeing at nothing. He looked up, startled, at Calleigh.

"How did he survive, Calleigh? Twelve hours out there…"

"He's a tough one, Frank."

"He must be." He shook his head. "Sorry, what can I do for you?"

"Help me with my missing boy. You were saying something about the vehicle, then all hell broke loose…"

"Oh, yes. We've got a name on the registered owner. The VIN Delko found gave it to us. And a picture from his driving license. Name's Robert Rosso."

"But that's great."

"Not that great. I sent someone to bring him in, and he's not there. I've got the house under surveillance, in case he comes back. Oh, and I've asked for CCTV from the two roads nearest the entrance to the 'glades. Not sure what I'm looking for, but assuming our perps got home somehow… I haven't looked at it yet. Wanna help?"

"Of course. I need to be doing something."

They poured over the always indistinct CCTV footage, starting at five the previous day.

"There's your chase," Frank murmured. They watched the Durango, speeding towards the 'glades, with the police cruiser hot on its tail. "Maybe we can see the occupants."

"Shall I call Dave Benton – he's the best at manipulating these things?"

"In a minute. Let's just see if we can spot them later."

"How much later?"

"Well, after dark, according to Delko. They've got to take the Hummer, get it stuck… Assume they struggle with it for a bit, then walk. Probably trying to get somewhere they could be picked up… So… we can skip to nine o'clock, d'you think?"

They trawled through hours of footage from the road the chase had taken place on, but saw nothing suspicious. They moved to the camera on another possible exit road. Again they were drawing a blank.

"He's in a hurry," Calleigh murmured, indicating a car heading into the 'glades.

"At three in the morning… Let's have a closer look." They froze the image. The detail on night-time footage, even with street lights, was poor. "What is that – an old Chevy?"

"Something old… Can we get the license plate?"

"Just make a note of the time. We'll get your Benton on all the suspicious bits."

They went on. Anyone heading into the 'glades in the early hours was arguably suspicious, but there weren't many and nothing caught their eye. Until…

Suddenly, Calleigh said, "Stop! Is that the Chevy again?"

Frank froze the footage. "Good call. It looks like it. How long has he been?"

"Only forty minutes… Not long enough to actually _go_ anywhere…"

"Time to pick someone up though. We may be wrong, but time to call in your expert."

"I'll take the tapes to the lab."

Frank chuckled. "Nothing to take, Cal. You're behind the times. City's CCTV is all wi-fi since a month ago." He scribbled down a few file names, and times, and passed it to her. "There you go."

Dave Benton was keen to help. Also keen for news. Calleigh was aware that she hadn't made an announcement and that rumors would be rife.

"Is it true about H?"

"Depends what you've heard." She relented. "He was attacked in the 'glades last night. He's in hospital."

"Jesus! Is it bad?"

"Yes, it is. But Eric's with him." She didn't want to say anymore. She didn't _know_ anymore. "Look, we need your help on some CCTV…" She smiled weakly. "Do you mind me looking over your shoulder?"

"Nope. Not at all. Let's see what we can do. Occupants and license plates?"

"If you can."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

MISSING

Chapter 6

It was late afternoon when Calleigh went to the hospital. Inquiries directed her to ICU. In that time, Eric hadn't phoned - she supposed there was no news. Which probably, as the saying went, made it good news. The room was quiet, apart from faint electronic noises. A nurse worked in one corner. Eric sat beside the bed, staring at Horatio. Calleigh stood and watched him for a moment or two. The expression in the dark eyes startled her, although she had long ago realised that Eric loved his boss. Oh, not in any sexual way - Eric was as straight as they came - but as a mentor, a brother… Horatio lay still and ashen against the white sheets. There was a smudge of blood from his head wound on the pillowcase, but he wasn't bandaged. With a sigh, Calleigh beckoned to Eric, who followed her outside, his gaze seeming reluctant to leave the man in the bed.

"How is he?"

"I should have called…"

"Sshh… It's okay… Just tell me."

"Well, they've put his chances up to eighty per cent… They said fifty-fifty when we got here…"

"Is he injured?"

"Fractured skull – some subdural bleeding… But -" He smiled weakly. "- the fact that he was so cold slowed the bleeding right down… which is why it didn't kill him. They say it's quite a minor fracture. They're just monitoring that at the moment."

"What else?"

"Severe hypothermia - I mean severe. There could be all sorts of internal damage, but they don't know yet. They've been warming him up… but his heart went into overdrive, so they've slowed the warming process… They want him to stay in a coma for a while… ease the strain on the organs… So… eighty per cent chance… of survival. They're not talking about a full recovery yet… Oh, Calleigh, we only just got him in time. They said, another hour…"

"But we did get him." She gazed at her colleague's face. "Have you eaten?"

"I can't leave him."

She touched his hand. "I think you should go, just for a while… Shower, change, get some food. You'll feel better. I'll stay with him."

Eric stared through the window at Horatio, then back at Calleigh. "You won't leave him? And if…"

"He'll be okay. And I won't leave him. Take the Hummer." She handed him the keys. "I'll call you if anything happens… But it won't."

"What about the case? The boy? I feel so guilty…"

"I don't want you to think about it. But, if it helps, Frank and I seem to be getting nearer the perps. We found a suspicious car on CCTV going in and out of the 'glades last night. Dave's trying to read the plates. I'll go back and carry on with it in a bit."

"Getting nearer… That's good." Eric was clearly not concentrating on anything but Horatio.

Calleigh took his place beside the bed. The nurse came over to check the monitors.

"How's he doing?"

"Not too bad. His core temperature's still a couple of degrees down…" She smiled at Calleigh. "We were putting warm fluids into him, but his heart rate rocketed. It happens sometimes. So we're only warming him externally. He's lying on an electric blanket. And the sheet's a special one that reflects any heat back onto him. Slower, but less of a strain on him. The doctor's asked me to clean him up a bit, and get him into a fresh gown – we put him straight into a warming process, without washing him. But he's stable enough now. Do you want to wait outside for five minutes, ma'am?"

Calleigh smiled. "If you want. But I could help…"

Together, they gently pulled the sheet back, and wiped his body, a small area at a time. He was scratched and dirty, as if he'd been dragged or crawled over rough ground, and showed some bruising, but seemed otherwise uninjured.

For the first time, Calleigh saw his scars - the very old stab wounds, the more recent bullet wound… And she felt suddenly and unexpectedly uncomfortable at handling her boss's naked body, even though the nurse discreetly draped a towel over his hips. She wished she hadn't volunteered. Not because she minded doing it, but because she was suddenly struck by how much it would have embarrassed Horatio. She was glad when he was cleaner, and they eased him into a hospital gown, pulling the sheet back over him.

"He is going to recover, isn't he?"

"The doctor was optimistic… but he's not out of the woods. I'm afraid it's a bit of a 'wait and see' situation. I'm sorry." The nurse looked at her. "He's your boss?"

"Yes, and my friend."

"You all seem… very fond of him." The nurse blushed slightly. "Sorry, not my business."

"It's not a secret," Calleigh smiled. "He's a bit special. Eric adores him, as you no doubt noticed."

The nurse chuckled. "He'd hardly let me touch him."

"They're brothers-in-law. And very close."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

"He was taken by a couple of bad guys… Dumped in the Everglades. I've left it all with the Police Department at the moment… We will catch them."

"Good. I'm sure you will."

"You know, I have no idea how he survived…. He was in the middle of the 'glades… I mean… snakes, 'gators, bears even…"

"Perhaps because he was so cold. And still."

"I suppose. Or just luck…" She reached out and stroked his face gently, glad to feel some warmth there.

"He's a good-looking man. And tough – got to be to survive what happened."

Calleigh chuckled. "He is that. On both counts. I hope he can't hear us."

She was aware that most people - herself included - thought of him as one of the toughest men around. It was an impression given off by his relentless energy, and his effortless authority. And his apparent fearlessness. He tended to come over as larger than life. Only now, when he was out of action, lying pale, bloodied and unconscious, did his vulnerability show.

* * *

Eric hurried to get back. He knew he didn't need to. It wasn't that he didn't trust Calleigh. It wasn't that sitting by the bed was helping his brother-in-law. Trouble was, he could not focus on anything else. He simply needed to be there, even if the man was unconscious.

His steps faltered outside the room, as he looked through the glass. The bed was empty, and Calleigh and the nurse were chatting, and remaking the bed.

He pushed the door open. "Where is he?"

"Whoa, Eric… He's okay!" Calleigh ran to him. "Honestly. He's having a scan."

The nurse joined them. "Sorry if we alarmed you. He's doing well. His temperature's almost normal. They're re-scanning his brain, and they're testing his blood to see if there's organ damage."

"Why are you…?" He gestured to the bed.

"We've stopped the warming process. So normal sheets and blankets. He'll stay in ICU for now, at least till we get the results."

Eric sat down, and chuckled in embarrassment. "Sorry. I thought…" He looked up. "Is he conscious?"

"Probably tomorrow," the nurse said. "You don't really need to stay, you know. We'll take great care of him."

"I know that. I'd… rather be here." He turned to Calleigh. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be here a while. You'd better put me down for some holiday."

"We'll work something out. Stay as long as you want." She put her hand on his cheek. "I must get back."

* * *

Calleigh wasn't surprised that Frank was still working, despite the lateness of the hour.

"How is he?"

"Doing okay, Frank. Thank goodness. How are we doing on the cars?" She could tell by his expression that Frank had good news.

"Still haven't located Rosso, but you'll never guess who owns that old Chevy..."

She shook her head.

Frank grinned. "Lee Robbins."

"_The husband?_" Calleigh sat down. "I don't believe it! Have we picked him up?"

"As we speak." He chuckled. "Horatio was right – he didn't like him from the start."

"What about the boy? And, the husband had an alibi, didn't he? And how are the other two connected with him?"

"We'll find out, Cal. He's involved, that's the point. We might start unravelling this at last."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

MISSING

Chapter 7

"Did you get anything else from the CCTV?" Calleigh asked.

"Some." Frank pulled a few photos from a folder. "This from the Durango. Driver's fairly clear, and it looks very much like Rosso, the registered owner. His mate's looking behind them – can't see his face. And this, from Robbins' car. Going out – just him. And coming back, him and the same guy as before."

"No sign of the boy."

"In the back, most like…. Or the trunk." Then he corrected himself. "No, no father would put his kid in the trunk."

"No father would kill the boy's mother. You would hope… Are you going to interview him tonight?"

"Yeah, briefly. I'm missing my supper, so he can miss his. Then I'll put him in lock-up and let him stew for the night. Wanna stick around?"

Lee Robbins again vehemently protested his innocence.

"You checked me out! You know I didn't do it! Why aren't you looking for my boy?"

"Cut the crap, Robbins! You were seen."

"Seen?"

"Going towards the Everglades, in the middle of the night."

"I… couldn't sleep. I went for a drive. No law against that."

"Don't bet on it. And you picked up a friend or two on the way back?"

He shrugged. "Couple of guys were looking for a lift."

"Couple of guys, huh? No one you knew then?" Frank's face and voice showed only disbelief.

"Of course not."

"Do I look like I just fell off the Christmas tree? Who would pick up strangers, in the 'glades, at three in the morning? Try again, pal!"

Robbins hesitated. "I think I want a lawyer."

Frank chuckled. "I'll bet you do." He stood up suddenly. "Tell you what, you can enjoy the County's hospitality for the night. Tomorrow we'll give you breakfast, get you a nice public defender, mirandize you, the whole nine yards. How's that sound?"

As Lee Robbins was led out, Calleigh said quietly, "That was sudden."

"Well, I can't interview him once he's asked for counsel, and it'll take time to get a lawyer at this time of night. Better to leave him to think about it overnight. It's been a long day, and I'm too damn' hungry to spend an evening on that scumbag."

"What about the boy? Timmy?"

"I'll bet he's somewhere safe. That was the whole point, wasn't it? The father wanted the child?"

"He could be on his own, at the father's house."

"Give me some credit, Cal – we looked. He lives in one room – no hiding place. I don't know where he is at the moment, but we'll find him."

"Sorry, Frank. As you said, it's been a long day. I suppose he could still be with Rosso."

"And he's not home. We've been watching. You know, there are things that don't add up here – where does a janitor, living in a single room, get the money to hire someone to kidnap his child? Why didn't he just do it himself?"

"Maybe he didn't have access. We could check for restraining orders and such."

"We could. Just because he said it was all hunky-dory…" Frank sighed. "It's going to have to wait till tomorrow. Fancy getting something to eat? You can tell me about Horatio."

* * *

They sat in a nearby diner, eating in silence, while the stresses of the day caught up with them both.

"That's better," Frank murmured at last, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. "What a goddam awful day! Sorry, Cal…"

"S'okay. I agree."

"So tell me about Horatio. Last I saw, he was being put in a helicopter, more dead than alive. Is Delko with him?"

"He won't leave him. If he did, he'd be no use to us – he's completely taken up with Horatio… who is doing okay, by the way." She recounted what she had learned at the hospital. "They say he could have organ damage, they don't know yet. And he's still unconscious. So okay, but not _that_ okay."

"At least he's alive. I can say it now – when I saw him, I didn't think he'd make it."

"I don't know how he did."

"No doubt he'll tell us when he wakes up."

"If he remembers."

* * *

The following morning, Frank and Calleigh faced Lee Robbins in an interrogation room. And his lawyer.

"Did you have a good night, Lee?" Frank began.

"No comment."

"Oh hell, we're going down the 'no comment' route, are we?" Frank sighed. "Well, let me tell you what we've got. We have a sighting of you going into the 'glades at three in the morning, and coming back forty minutes later with passengers."

"I told you…"

"Wait, _I'm_ talking. We've identified one of your passengers as a man seen driving past your house the day before your wife was murdered, a man who tried to outrun police and wrecked his car in the process. A man who left evidence that he was involved in that murder. Then, by coincidence, when he needs a lift, you just happen along."

"As you said, coincidence."

"Don't have too much faith in them," Frank said. "What I think is, for whatever reason, you wanted to grab your son. Presumably your wife objected. You persuaded, hired, whatever, these two bozos to do it, and your poor wife got in the way…"

"Is that all you've got, detective?" the lawyer said. "In that case…"

Frank turned to look at him. "Far be it from me to advise you, but we know your client didn't actually commit the crime. He could help himself by coming clean. Oh, and I've got one other thing. A warrant for your client's person, home and car. So I think lock-up's the best place for him, while we search, don't you? Do you want to give up the keys, or shall we just break the door down?"

Robbins shrugged and tossed the keys across the table.

"Oh, and your cell phone."

Calleigh thought she saw a flicker of alarm cross the man's face before he complied.

"I'll have you out this afternoon," the lawyer murmured confidently.

As they left, Calleigh murmured. "We really haven't got much. But he looked worried when you mentioned cell phone."

"I saw that."

"I'll give the phone to Dave, and help you with the searches. If that's okay…"

"Of course it's okay, Calleigh."

* * *

Lee Robbins' single room wasn't so much untidy as squalidly filthy. An unmade bed, dirty clothes, dirty plates, a blackened and greasy electric ring – the only cooking facility, empty fast food boxes, a rancid carton of milk.

"Jeez!" Frank muttered. "What a way to live! You'd think a janitor would clean up a bit. Where to start?"

"There's not even a phone here. Communal one in the lobby, I guess. Communal bathroom too, I imagine."

"No point in forensics anyway. We've got trace from Rosso and his pal already, if they've ever been here, which I doubt. And if there's trace of the boy… well, he is his son… So just a quick look round, and hope the car gives us more."

They were grateful for their latex gloves as the searched the place. They found very little, except for some papers from a solicitor.

Calleigh glanced through them. "Divorce papers… _She_ didn't think they were getting back together. And he did have access trouble…"

"Living here, it doesn't surprise me. I wouldn't bring a dog in here." Frank slammed a closet door. "Come on, let's see if the car's more informative."

They took swabs from various areas of the ancient Chevy. "Should be able to prove who was in here," Calleigh said. "There's mud, hair, a blood smear…"

"Where's the blood?"

"Back seat. I don't know, Frank. I feel we're going round in circles. Or rather, we _know_ everything, but can't prove anything."

"We don't know everything. We don't know the identity of the second man."

"What's your instinct, Frank?"

"That Robbins is out of his depth. And that, whatever the plan started out as, it pretty soon went tits up."

"So you think you can crack Robbins?"

"Either that, or his cell phone will reveal all."

"You're hopeful."

"Born optimist, Cal. Have to be."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

MISSING

Chapter 8

Eric watched the blue eyes trying to focus. Horatio raised one hand slowly and ran it over his face. He didn't exactly groan. It was more a soft and long drawn-out, "Ohhh…" He lowered his arm as if it was too heavy to hold off the bed.

Eric reached out and put his hand on him. "Hello, boss."

He turned his head painfully, and a hint of a smile crossed his face. "Eric." His voice failed, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Eric." He frowned. "What the hell happened?"

"Just a minute. I promised to tell the nurse if you woke up. Back in a second." He went into the corridor and almost collided with Horatio's nurse. He knew he was grinning. "He's awake."

He went back in and sat down.

Horatio said again, "What happened?"

"We're not entirely sure. What do you remember happening?"

"I don't know. It's… confused."

Eric moved out of the way, as a doctor came in, and quickly examined Horatio. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've died."

"Nearly," the doctor said seriously. He glanced at Eric. "Your friend here can explain it. Now, you're doing okay, but you've got a major concussion and a not-too-serious fractured skull. So rest, sleep, and absolutely no excitement. Does your head hurt?"

"You could say that."

The doctor turned to the nurse and murmured something inaudible. He left, and Eric resumed his place by the bed. He stayed silent while the nurse came back and added something to the IV.

"Can you remember anything?" Eric asked, as they were left alone. "I thought you were following me out of the 'glades – that was the last we saw of you."

"I can remember that bit. I should have got straight in the car. Someone jumped me, knocked me out. I came to on the back seat of the Hummer, duct-taped hand and foot, and with a thundering headache. Why didn't they just leave me?"

"I don't know. Presumably they didn't want you found too quickly. Was Timmy there?"

"Yes, right beside me." He smiled. "Sweet kid – he kept asking if they'd hurt me. We were able to talk in whispers, because the two in the front were having a… monumental argument." He closed his eyes. "I can't… Sorry…"

"Take it easy… Just rest."

"Sorry… I feel like… my head's swimming… Tell you more… later…" His voice trailed off.

_He hadn't the energy to keep his eyes open, or to talk, but he tried to get his thoughts in order… He'd persuaded Timmy, by gestures and whispers, to take his badge and poke it out of sight. And he'd promised Timmy… 'We'll get you out of this…'_

He opened his eyes again, trying to control the nauseating dizziness and double-vision. "Have you got the boy?"

Eric hesitated. "Not yet. At least, not that I've heard. I've been here, not at the lab."

"Why?"

"Why? _Why?_ Horatio… we thought you were going to die! Where else would I be?"

"You need to find Timmy. I promised him…" His voice faded again, and his eyes closed, a frown wrinkling his forehead. "Oh God…"

"Just rest. We're doing everything we can. Calleigh and Frank are running the case."

_Think, you fool… You were there. You have to have a lead on them… Names? He tried to recall any overheard conversation. Every focussed thought seemed to send pain through his head. The urge to drift off was strong. What had the men been arguing about? Him, he thought… But Timmy… He'd promised Timmy…_

He tried to concentrate, and a small groan escaped him.

"H, take it easy… Sleep."

He ignored Eric's protestation, but kept his eyes closed. "They were arguing. Maybe I heard something. One of them wanted to kill me. The other was persuading him not to… because I was a cop. I knew they were probably going to dump me… I thought it'd be my chance… But there was the boy… I was thinking what to do when they got the Hummer stuck."

_He listened as one of them, the bigger man, the one who wanted to kill him, got out to inspect the problem. Shouting, swearing, words that no boy of Timmy's age should hear. Then the driver got out too, and they felt the vehicle being pushed and rocked._

_He'd whispered to the boy, 'I want you to listen to me… This may be my chance to get away…'_

'_Take me with you. Please…'_

'_I can't, Timmy, I can't, but I'll come back.'_

'_You won't.' He saw the hope fade from the child's face. It broke his heart._

'_I will, but I have to get help. Trust me, Timmy.'_

_The boy said nothing, not meeting his eyes._

'_I want you to be good. Do everything they say. They won't hurt you.' He prayed he was right. 'Timmy, promise me.'_

'_Promise.' Grudgingly._

_The bigger man opened the back door and pulled him out. Trussed up as he was, he hit the ground hard. Timmy followed, landing on top of him._

'_Why not leave them here?' The driver's voice._

'_You wanted them to come. You can look after them.'_

'_This has all gone wrong…' A whine._

'_And whose fault is that?'_

_More argument. Horatio tuned it out, thinking._

He opened his eyes again, wincing. "They cut our ankle ties, so we could walk, and pulled us up. I tried to run, but… I wasn't too steady on my feet."

"I'm not surprised, after a crack on the head."

"They grabbed me again, and we scuffled. The hand ties came undone, which improved the odds a bit, but there were two of them…"

"You got smashed against the car…"

He looked surprised. "Did I?"

"I found blood and hair."

"It didn't knock me out, but…" He sighed. "I almost got away, but I was pretty useless, and we were frog-marched away. I played it worse than I was, so they left my hands free and held me up…"

He closed his eyes again. Whatever the hospital had given him was easing the pain in his head, but he couldn't stay awake.

_Liar, Horatio… You didn't have to play it up… You could hardly stand…_

"I pretended to pass out. They picked me up, and this time I managed to get free. They grabbed me, but just got my jacket, which came off. I ran, and hid, and I realised they weren't coming after me."

_The voices were distant now._

'_Leave him.'_

'_But he can recognize us.'_

'_He won't get out of here alive. He's done us a favor…'_

"I lay there for a long… time… Cold…" His voice trailed off as he drifted into sleep.

Eric sat and watched him for a while. Then he got up, stretched, and went outside. He needed some fresh air. He had got a few hours' sleep last night, in a relatives' room, but that was all. His eyes felt gritty and he was hungry. But Horatio seemed out of danger, and needed to rest. Eric decided on breakfast in the cafeteria, and a walk round the hospital grounds. He also phoned Calleigh.

"How are you getting on?" he asked.

"Progressing. Slowly. I assume he's better."

"He is, but –"

"Well, since you're interested in the case again. I'm teasing… Seriously, how is he?"

"Awake. Dozy. Confused. And worried about the boy, of course. Have you found him?"

"Not yet, but we may by the end of the day." She quickly filled Eric in on the progress they had made. "I'm hoping the father's phone calls will reveal something. We're just heading back to the lab. Give Horatio my love."

He heard something in the background. "What's that?"

"Frank sends his love too."

He distinctly heard, 'I didn't say that!', laughed, and rang off.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

MISSING

Chapter 9

Dave Benton had, as usual, done a thorough job. He produced a list – a short one, as it happened - of Lee Robbins' phone calls for the last five days. Apart from a pizza delivery company, most were to and from a number he had identified as Robert Rosso's. Additionally, he had been through the stored numbers. Rosso again, Hannah – none for Timmy, who presumably did not have his own phone – his place of work, and various out-of-state friends and relations.

"Hm… Not the second perp, or not obviously," Frank muttered. "My thinking, he's a friend of Rosso's."

"I've saved the best bit." Dave said, switching on a recorder. "Message left yesterday, from Rosso."

'_Where are you, Lee? We need to see you. We've got a brat we don't want, and you owe us money we do want. Call me, or Mac says he's coming round.' _

"Well, that answers a lot. They've got Timmy, and our second guy, presumably, is Mac." Calleigh said. "What time was that sent?"

"Ten o'clock yesterday evening."

"When Lee was with us," Frank added.

"I just hope they haven't got impatient and hurt the boy."

"Doubt it, he's their payday." Frank rubbed his hands together. "Time to talk to that sonofabitch again."

* * *

When Eric went back, Horatio was awake. A nurse was adjusting the bed, raising the head, so that he was propped up. He looked a little more alert.

There was a genuine smile. "Still here?

"Of course." Eric sat down. "Feel better?"

"A bit. The doc's just told me I've got no organ damage, which is good."

"Just concussion and a fractured skull."

"He says it's minor. It'll heal itself."

"If you let it."

"I will." He sounded sincere, though Eric doubted his patience for prolonged convalescence. "Well, I'll have to – for now – I'm too dizzy to raise my head. I can't even walk to the bathroom. And yes, I did try."

"Feel like talking?"

"Yes, I think so. What do you want to know?"

"How you survived out there… Do you know how low your temperature was when you came in?"

"Yes, they told me. I'd have been all right if it hadn't been raining."

_It had been so cold. He'd been cold anyway, and he'd lost his jacket in the struggle. Once he was sure his assailants had gone, he got to his feet. Rubbed his arms for warmth. Thought about his options…_

"Trouble was, I didn't know where I was. I could have been near a road, but I had no way of knowing. It was dark, and my head was pounding so I could hardly think."

"Not surprised," Eric murmured.

_He had felt the back of his head. Bloody… It felt sort of… soft and puffy. And it hurt. But there was nothing he could do about it…_

"The one thing I knew was that I wasn't that far from the Hummer. I thought it'd be some shelter at least, and it might still have some communication capability. Anyway, I knew it would be missed. So… I tried to find it…"

"And you couldn't?"

"No. I don't know why. My sense of direction seemed to desert me. And…" He looked down, with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I kept falling over. And it started raining. I never believed Florida could be so cold."

_It had been worse than that. Not only no sense of direction, but no sense of balance. He had spent more time on his hands and knees than upright. He had thrown up. As it got light he had realised he had no clue where he was, or where the Hummer was. He was shivering convulsively. Weary with trying to stand up, he remembered sitting on the soaking ground, hugging his knees, and shaking so violently it hurt. Sick, dizzy, injured, cold… And lost…_

"You okay?" Eric sounded concerned, and he wondered how long he'd been silent.

"Yeah. It's just… it gets a bit vague…"

"That's hypothermia – I looked it up – it causes confusion…"

Horatio chuckled. "I was certainly confused. Once I thought I was near the lab. Then I thought I heard someone calling me…"

"Then you took your clothes off."

"I did _what_?"

"Undressed. It's quite common apparently. 'Paradoxical undressing.' At least you didn't go all the way. We found you in your underwear." Eric had debated about telling him. But, since half of PD had been there, Horatio would hear anyway. Better it came from him.

"My God! Who found me?"

"A couple of Frank's boys."

"And I was half naked?" His expression of horror made Eric smile.

"In your skivvies, boss. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Wouldn't you?" Horatio closed his eyes and groaned. "Oh God, can this get any worse?"

* * *

"You know, Lee, it's lucky you're in here…" Frank placed a small recorder on the table and pressed 'Play'. _'Where are you, Lee?' _"So how do you know Robert Rosso?"

"We used to work together. We have a drink sometimes. He's just a friend."

Frank played more of the message. _'We've got a brat we don't want…' _"Come on, man, they've got your son… Let us help you. Help him."

"Oh hell…" The man's resistance collapsed abruptly.

"Don't say anything, Lee," the lawyer said quickly.

"Don't you see? They know it all!"

Frank waited expectantly.

"Timmy wasn't supposed to be there. He should have been at school."

Frank hid his surprise as well as he could. "So the plan was to kill your wife?"

"If I give you Bob Rosso, what happens to me?"

"We've already got plenty of evidence against Rosso. Try again. What about the other man?"

"I don't know him. I met him for the first time when I gave them a lift. Bob called him Mac. I don't know whether that's a nickname, or what. I don't know anything about him. He was holding Tim. He wouldn't let him come with me…" He covered his eyes.

Frank wasn't moved to sympathy. "So let me get this straight. You engaged Mr Rosso to kill your wife. How much did you pay him?"

"Seven thousand."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Hm - bargain basement. You know what they say, Lee – pay peanuts, get monkeys. Where did you get seven thousand?"

Robbins hesitated, then said, almost inaudibly, "I stole it."

"You don't do things by halves, do you?" Frank snorted. "Who did you steal it from?"

"My work. I was going to put it back."

"Sorry, you've lost me."

The lawyer chipped in. "I need five minutes alone with my client…"

"All right." Frank got up to leave. "But you know the rules – an officer stays here. Don't worry – he's officially deaf…"

Frank went to find Calleigh. She looked up questioningly.

"Talking to his attorney," he explained. "I hope we'll get the whole sordid story in a minute. Hey, you know we thought the plan was to steal the boy? It wasn't, it was to kill the mother."

"Really? Do you still think the boy's safe then?"

"I hope so. I really do hope so. Rosso said '_We've_ got him'. Do you think that means they're all at this Mac's?"

"It's a good bet."

"Robbins admitted that Timmy was with them when he picked them up, but that 'Mac' wouldn't let him go because good ol' dad hadn't paid what he promised. It's also a good bet that Robbins doesn't know where they are. And neither do we."

Calleigh thought for a moment. "I've got an idea…"

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

MISSING

Chapter 10

"How sure are we about this?" Frank looked at the address Calleigh had given him.

"About ninety-nine per cent, according to Dave Benton. But it's an apartment block. We can't get the actual apartment."

"Look, I know your guy's good, but…"

"He says that there's a new app that lets you pinpoint a cell phone that's transmitting. It's more accurate than the old cell tower triangulation thing. I trust him, Frank. Our Mr Rosso let the phone ring before it switched to voicemail. It was enough."

"We need to know the exact apartment. If the perp gets alarmed, the boy's at risk. 'Specially as we know that grabbing him wasn't the original plan…"

"Let me see if I can find the landlord and get a list of tenants."

"Okay. I'll get back to Mr Robbins. But interrupt me if you get anywhere."

* * *

Lee Robbins' story was short and far from sweet. In a casual conversation over a drink, he had moaned to his friend about his wife divorcing him.

"I said, 'I wish the bitch was dead', and Bob said he was sure it could be arranged. That was the start of it."

"Why didn't you just let her divorce you and be done with it?" Frank asked. "Marriages fail. It happens."

"Because they said she'd keep the house, and the kid, who she wouldn't let me see. _And_ I'd have to pay child support! It just wasn't manageable. How was I supposed to live?"

"People manage, pal. They get second jobs. They don't resort to murder."

"I just kept thinking about what Bob had said. Next time I saw him, we talked some more… Anyway, he said he knew someone who'd do it for five grand, and he wanted two grand for himself."

"So you… er… raised the money."

"I realised I could easily steal it, and if I could replace it within a few days, they'd never catch me."

"How did you intend to replace it?"

"The company Hannah worked for – they insure their employees… Life insurance… Only fifty thousand dollars, but doubled if the death is the result of a crime." He smiled. "So it was perfect."

"Not the word I'd choose," Frank murmured sourly. "Go on…"

"I'd keep the house and the boy. And I could replace that old car…" Lee Robbins sounded quite wistful. "It should have been simple. But they screwed everything up." He looked at the detective. "That's it, really."

Frank looked up as Calleigh tapped on the door and beckoned to him. He went out, closing the door behind him.

"I think I've got the apartment number," she said. She showed him a list of names. "Look – Gordon McKenzie – number ten. 'Mac', do you think? It's the only one it could be…"

Frank nodded. He gestured at the interrogation room. "Be glad to get away from him for a while. I haven't got the stomach for it. You know, it was all about money? Not even that much money."

He pushed the door open again. "Take him back to lock-up. We'll carry on later."

* * *

Eric was sitting beside a sleeping Horatio, reading a magazine, when his cell phone bleeped. He pulled it out of his pocket. Guiltily – they were banned in ICU – he looked at the caller ID.

"Cal, I'll have to call you back. These aren't allowed in ICU."

"Call me later. Just wanted to tell you we've got the boy – safe and well."

"Oh, that's great! I'll call you…" He rang off and pushed the phone quickly out of sight.

Horatio stirred, and rubbed his eyes. He smiled sleepily. "You don't need to stay, you know."

"I know. H, they've got the boy. They've got Timmy."

"He's okay? Oh, thank God…" His smile grew warmer. "Thank God… Did they get the perps?"

"I don't know any details. I'll have to go and phone Calleigh. Do you want me to?"

"No, I can wait… It was only that I made a promise to Timmy. A promise I broke."

"Horatio, what more could you have done? You nearly died, brother."

"Through my own stupidity."

"Please don't start beating yourself up about it," Eric said, gripping his arm. "Things happen."

"Don't they just." He closed his eyes for a few moments. "Have you seen my nurse?"

"Do you feel worse?"

"Nope." He opened his eyes. "I was wondering if I could get something to eat."

That afternoon, Horatio was moved off ICU. He was predicted to make a full recovery, but meanwhile, his dizziness and double-vision were still severe. They said it would take time, but as yet he couldn't walk unaided. Also, couldn't read or watch TV. So he slept.

* * *

Eric returned to the lab, and caught up with Calleigh.

"Sorry I couldn't talk – no phones in ICU… He's off ICU now. They say he'll be okay."

"No lasting damage? Thank goodness for that. How long…?"

"Not as long as he should, no doubt. The concussion's stopping him doing anything at the moment. But he's not going to die, and he's getting short-tempered about being laid up, so I came back. Tell me what's happened with the case."

Calleigh recounted how they had raided the apartment. It had been a pitch-perfect operation. Taken by surprise, Rosso and McKenzie had been apprehended without a shot being fired, even as they recovered Horatio's gun.

"And the boy?"

"He's okay. Well, physically. He's got to be pretty traumatised. They're checking him out. I've got to interview him tomorrow." She smiled ruefully. "It's one of the many times I wish Horatio was here. He's so good with kids."

"So are you, Cal. What'll happen to him? Foster home?"

"Unless there's a suitable aunt or grandparent… One of the things I have to find out. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Did he actually see his mother killed?"

"I don't know. After we got him, he went straight to Child Services… Poor kid..."

He got a further update when he went to see Frank.

"Well, I've finished with Robbins. He's being charged with conspiracy to commit murder. Less than he deserves, but he did give a full confession." The detective looked bemused. "I don't think he had any idea how dirty this would get… He's not the sharpest blade in the toolbox. He just saw a scenario that got rid of a troublesome wife. Would that it was that simple!"

"Did he know about Horatio?"

"I'm pretty sure he didn't. He only knows a car got wrecked… Their Durango. Nothing about the Hummer or Horatio. He told me Timmy muttered something like 'What about the cop?' but that McKenzie told him to shut up. He assumed he was talking about the cop that chased them…"

"What are they like? The perps?"

"Rosso's a whiny 'it-wasn't-my-fault' asshole. You know the type. McKenzie's older. A thug. Hardly a brain cell between them. I'm interviewing tomorrow. You can sit in, if you want."

"I would, but it's Calleigh's case… Since I went AWOL."

"She'll be busy with the boy."

"In that case, I will."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

MISSING

Chapter 11

Calleigh stood with a woman from Child Services, watching Timmy Robbins through the glass. The boy was intently drawing on a sheet of paper.

"How's he doing?"

"Hard to say. He seems very self-confident, as if he's coping, but I think a lot is blocked out at the moment. And he was very tired. He slept for about twelve hours."

"Does he know about his mother?"

"I've told him… He just said 'I thought so'."

"Did he witness it?" Calleigh asked.

"I don't think so. He's really not talking much. I mean, he talks, but not about anything. Perhaps he'll open up to you…"

It was one of the more difficult interviews Calleigh had done. She spent a while just chatting, trying to put the boy at ease, although she immediately understood what Child Services had meant. The boy seemed relaxed to a degree that struck her as unnatural.

"You want me to tell you what happened, right?" he said at last. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about it."

"All right…"

"Well… I was in my bedroom…"

"Getting ready for school?"

"No, _not_ getting ready for school." He looked down at the paper and scribbled on it a bit. "I told Mom I didn't feel good… It wasn't true… I shouldn't have done that, should I?"

"Maybe not, but we've all done that sometimes. Even grown-ups."

"Anyway, I heard Mom shout, so I went to go downstairs, but a man came up and stopped me."

"Did you know the man?" Calleigh asked.

"Not then, but I know him _now_. He's Bob. He didn't hurt me." He smiled. "He gave me pizza."

"You like pizza?"

"Mommy doesn't let me have it very often. They took me in a car. I… got a bit scared…"

"I think you've been very brave. Where did you go in the car?"

"I don't know. To a… not a house… Up lots of stairs…"

"An apartment… Just you and Bob?"

Timmy shook his head vigorously. "And Mac. Mac didn't like me. He was very cross."

And gradually, Calleigh drew the story out of Timmy. Spending the day in Mac's apartment, the men arguing, then driving out in the Durango.

"And they crashed it – boom! Ker-ash!"

"Didn't it hurt you?"

"Nah! But Mac was very very cross. I don't know why, because it was Bob that did it. He said it was my fault for talking too much. We got out and hid, and a policeman came in his car with flashing lights, and then more cars, and a truck came to take Bob's car away. It had a yellow flashing light." The boy fell suddenly silent.

"What is it, Timmy? What happened next?"

Silence.

"Timmy?"

The boy looked at Calleigh. "Do you know 'Ratio?"

"Yes. He's my friend."

"Mac hit him on the head. They tied him up and put him in the car."

She nodded. "What happened then?"

"They took his car. A big car, not like the policeman's."

"It's called a Hummer. Did you know Horatio was a policeman too?"

"He told me. He showed me his badge. He didn't _look_ like a policeman." He hesitated. "He had blood on his head…" He frowned. "I'm thirsty."

They took a break, while Calleigh had coffee and Timmy a soda.

Timmy said suddenly, "'Ratio said he'd come back, and he didn't."

"Oh, Timmy, he tried to. He really did. Mac hurt him, a lot. He couldn't get back to you. Do you understand?"

"Is he dead too?"

"No, sweetheart, no... He's in the hospital."

"Can I go and see him?"

Calleigh smiled. _What was it about Horatio and kids?_ "Later, maybe. We need to talk about some other things first."

It was a long morning. After getting as much of the story as she thought she could, Calleigh presented the cooperative Timmy with a photo line-up, and the boy officially identified Rosso and McKenzie. There were still gaps. When she carefully broached the subject of his mother, Timmy had responded with a shrug.

"I know she's dead. They told me."

Calleigh thought he had no concept of what it meant, but she didn't know what else to say. _Horatio would have known…_

"What about your father?"

"He's gone."

"Don't you see him anymore?"

He shook his head, then added, "He came to get us, in his car. But he didn't talk to me."

They broke for a late lunch. To give the boy a break from the somewhat oppressive atmosphere of the crime lab, Calleigh took him to a nearby diner.

"Pizza?" she asked.

"Yuck, no! I've had pizza all the time. Bob kept giving me pizza."

Calleigh chuckled, and they settled for sandwiches.

"Have you got any aunts and uncles?" she asked, once they were eating. At the boy's puzzled look, she added, "You know – your Mom's sisters or brothers…"

"Don't think so."

"What about grandparents? Your Mom's Mom? Nana?"

He nodded his head slowly. "I think Nana lives a long way away. We went to visit once… when I was little."

"Do you know where she lives?"

He screwed up his face in thought. "Mom told me. Can't remember… Somewhere where they have snow. I wish it snowed here."

"Well, we'll see if we can find her."

"Can I see 'Ratio now?"

"I'll have to phone up to see if it's allowed."

Back at the lab, she phoned Child Services to explain what Timmy wanted. "My boss seems to have made an impression on him. Can I take him into the hospital?"

"I don't see why not. I'm glad _something_ made an impression. He seems so… I don't know… I mean, he seems quite unconcerned about it all. Won't your boss mind?"

"No, though he's not very well."

"Well, I've got no objection. Let me know how it goes."

Calleigh sat Timmy down to give him a small lecture. "If I take you to the hospital, you've got to promise me that you'll be good."

"'Ratio said that…"

"Well, so do I. Horatio got badly hurt, and he's not very well… Do you understand?"

The boy nodded solemnly.

"I need to go in first, to see how he is, but, if you see him, you're not to get too excited. You're to talk quietly and sensibly. Can you do that?"

"Course I can," he said scornfully. "Do you think… he might not want to see me?"

Calleigh smiled. "Let's go and find out, shall we? Do you want to go in another Hummer?"

* * *

At the hospital, holding on firmly to her charge, she knocked and put her head round Horatio's door.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly. "I've got a visitor for you… If you're up to it."

He frowned questioningly.

"Timmy – he's desperate to see you."

She watched Horatio's face break into a smile, and pushed the boy forward.

Horatio's voice was gentle. "Timmy… Come here – let me look at you…"

The boy walked cautiously to the bed. "'Ratio? Did Mac hurt you?"

"A bit, Timmy. But I'm getting better. What about you, buddy – you okay?"

"Ye..es… Suppose…"

Horatio patted the bed. "Come on, sit down and talk to me."

Timmy looked back at Calleigh, who nodded. "Go on… I'll go and get a quick coffee."

Horatio murmured, "You'd better stay, Cal. Rules…"

"Oh, right…" She was aware of rules concerning children and unrelated adults, but hadn't imagined they'd apply to Horatio. She took herself quietly to a chair in the corner. "Don't make Horatio tired, Timmy."

"We'll be fine." Horatio smiled at her, extracting an arm from beneath the sheets, to help the boy get up beside him.

The sight of his bare freckled skin suddenly reminded Calleigh of her last visit to him, and an unwanted blush suffused her cheeks. She hoped he didn't notice.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

MISSING

Chapter 12

"So, Timmy, has Calleigh been nice to you?"

The boy nodded. "She's not like a cop."

"She's a very good cop, you know… So you told her everything you can remember?" Horatio looked over to Calleigh and winked.

"Everything, promise."

"Good man. Now, I have to say sorry to you."

"Why?"

"Because I made you a promise, and I didn't keep it…"

"Calleigh explained. She said Mac hurt you and you couldn't come back. So I forgive you." Timmy's voice was very serious.

"Thank you, Timmy." Horatio echoed his tone.

"Does your head hurt?"

"A bit, Tim, but it's getting better. Don't worry about me. I've got a hard head. What about you?"

"No one hurt me… but…"

"You hurt anyway?"

"Sort of… Inside… Like if you're hungry, but you feel sick… Sort of."

Horatio nodded thoughtfully. "Because of your Mom. I understand, buddy, I really do."

"Is your Mom dead too?"

"She is. I was only a little bit older than you when she died."

"Did you feel… funny inside?"

"I did. I still do, sometimes." Horatio sighed. "You want me to say something to make you feel better, Timmy, but I can't. You will feel better, but not today. Or tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"I think so." The eight year old face suddenly crumpled, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

For a while, Horatio just put his arm round him and let him cry. He looked at Calleigh and gave her a small sad smile.

At last, the boy sniffed, and whispered, "What happens now?"

Calleigh said softly, "The lady you were with last night is coming to get you."

"I want to go home."

"I know, but it's not possible, sweetheart. Tell Horatio about your Nana…"

"She's old. She lives a long way away. Where there's snow."

Horatio smiled. "Almost as old as me, I expect. So she lives where it snows… Let's think… Calleigh, how's your geography? Er… Michigan? Wisconsin?"

Timmy looked blank.

"No worries, Timmy. We'll find her… if you want us to."

Timmy sniffed again. "I don't know. Will I have to go away? Couldn't I stay with Dad?"

"Timmy, your Dad did a bad thing. I think you know that. He has to go away for a long time."

There was a knock, and the woman from Child Services put her head round the door. Calleigh went outside to join her.

"How's it going?"

"I don't really know. In the practical sense, he's given me everything I need. He's great friends with my boss – he opened up a bit. I think he's taking stock of losing his parents… Poor little kid… He wants to know what's going to happen to him. Oh, he's mentioned a maternal grandmother a couple of times, who lives 'a long way away, where there's snow'."

"Okay, I can look into that. Shall I take him now?"

Calleigh nodded. They went back in. Timmy looked distressed. "I want to stay with 'Ratio."

"Horatio needs to rest, sweetheart…"

"Ask Calleigh to give you my number," Horatio said. "If you want to talk to me, you can always call me. Anytime."

After they had gone, Calleigh sat down close to the bed. "You are so good with kids…" she said. "That's the first emotion he's really shown."

"Poor little soul. There's nothing I can say to make him feel better." He sighed. "Unless this grandmother comes up trumps, it's foster care… And I know what that can be like."

"I know. So how do _you_ feel?"

"Not too bad. Still dizzy, but it's getting less. And a sort of permanent background headache. But I'm getting there. Couple of days, I should think."

"You take your time. We've got this case sewn up."

"What's happening with it?"

"We've got the two perps in custody. Well, three, if you count the husband. Bags of evidence. Frank and Eric are interviewing."

"And I suppose I'm a material witness?"

"I suppose you are." She smiled. "I'd better head back." She bent and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You look tired. Get some sleep."

* * *

It was already late afternoon. Frank and Eric were sitting side by side on the wall outside the lab, drinking coffee. She hid a smile. So many times, it would be Frank and Horatio…

She went up to them. "How did it go?"

"So-so…" Eric said. "We can't get a confession from either of them, despite the evidence…"

"Not that we need it, for the Robbins murder," Frank added. "We've got evidence coming out of our ears – DNA, the weapon, her blood on their clothing... Not to mention Robbins' own testimony that he procured Rosso. What we haven't got evidence for, is the attack on Horatio. And I'm damned if they're going to get away with that."

"The boy confirmed it all to me," Calleigh said. "He was very clear, and he ID'd them from photos."

"But he's only eight."

"Ah, but you've got the best witness of all – Horatio."

Eric chuckled. "I suppose that's true. Except he was unconscious half the time."

Frank drained his coffee, and stood up. "We'll carry on tomorrow. They're locked up – separately. I'll bet that by then, Rosso's ready to give it all up."

"I agree – he's definitely shaky."

* * *

The next morning, Frank's instincts were proved correct. Robert Rosso wanted to make a deal.

"Can't think you've got much to deal, Rosso. Since we know what happened," Frank said acidly.

"Then you know I didn't actually _do_ anything. I didn't kill her. Mac did that."

"We know that. You're both still guilty of murder. Joint enterprise."

"What can I do?" The man sounded gratifyingly desperate. "I don't want to die."

Eric snapped, "Do you think Hannah wanted to? Do you think Timmy wants to be an orphan?"

"Tell me what happened after you drove the Durango into the ditch…" Frank said.

"I just skidded. It wasn't my fault. That cop was chasing me."

"_After_ that."

Rosso was indignant. "You know what happened. Your guys came out. And a tow truck."

"_After_ that."

Their suspect was silent.

Frank watched him. "Do you want to help or not? If not, you can go back to your cell. I've got better things to do -"

"All right, all right! One of your guys… Once he was alone… Mac hit him… Knocked him out."

"What did he hit him with?"

"A bit of iron pipe – it was lying around."

"Why did you do it?"

"Not me! Mac! We needed the Hummer. We were desperate, dude!"

Frank scowled. "Rosso, I am not your dude. Not in a million years. What next?"

"Look, Mac wanted to kill him. I stopped that. I said, 'You can't just kill a cop'. I get some credit for that, right? And I kept the boy safe."

"Just go on with the story… Why did you take him with you?"

"We thought… someone would come looking. We didn't want him found. So we tied him up and put him in the Hummer."

"And then you drove the Hummer into a bog…" Frank said, with a faint smirk.

Eric laughed, and Rosso looked hurt. "What?"

"I was thinking what a piss poor driver you are."

"It wasn't –"

"I know, it wasn't your fault. Go on."

"We set out to walk. But your guy wouldn't stop struggling. Mac roughed him up a bit, but he still wouldn't go quietly. Then he got away. So we left him. Reckoned the 'gators would finish him off. Did they?"

"If they had," Eric said menacingly, "we wouldn't be talking deals. You'd be heading straight for death row. Did you know you cracked his skull?"

"Well, he was on his feet when we left him… Running. So it wasn't that serious."

"You say," Frank added, "but if he dies, all bets are off. Comprende?"

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

MISSING

Chapter 13

Frank and Eric took a break, to find Calleigh watching and listening through the glass.

"Horatio's not going to die, Frank," she said quickly.

"I know that, but that idiot doesn't. I'm just making him uncomfortable. Let him think about it."

She nodded. "I thought I could help… Shall I drive out and see if I can find the iron pipe? The more evidence the better… And they've just brought the Hummer in – I could go over that…"

"Benitez and I were in it," Eric said. "We weren't very careful."

"Even so. There might be something useful."

"There is – or was. Horatio's blood and hair on the doorframe. If the rain and the recovery haven't obliterated it."

"I'll look. See you boys later." She left with a girlish wave of her hand.

They had a fairly good idea of the events now. They had confessions from Robbins and Rosso. They had a partial eyewitness account from an eight year old boy. They still had to tackle McKenzie, who, they suspected, would be a harder proposition. Eric had done a brief initial interview the previous day, but had got nothing.

"You know," Frank mused, "we haven't got as much on McKenzie as I'd like… Yes, a statement from Rosso… but he won't be a very impressive witness. And Robbins never met McKenzie beforehand. Never intended to meet him at all."

"We've got his shirt, with Hannah's blood on it. That's pretty definitive."

"True… but we need to tie him to the assault on Horatio."

"I was going in to see H tonight. Suppose I get a formal statement and IDs from him?"

"That'll certainly carry some weight. And Calleigh might come up with something." He sighed. "We'd better have a go at McKenzie."

Eric grinned. "You putting it off, Frank?"

"I just know he's going to be a 'no comment' merchant."

McKenzie was a thickset man in his forties. Frank thought he had the lowest hairline he'd ever seen. He stared at him for a minute, but the man showed no sign of discomfort. At last, he said, "Well, McKenzie, your partner's been very helpful."

"Don't have a partner."

Frank shrugged. "Whatever you want to call him. He's not got much of what you'd call… backbone, has he?"

"If you say so. I hardly know the man."

"Well, he's told us all about _you_, McKenzie. One night in lock-up and he rolled. Couldn't wait to cut a deal."

"Wouldn't believe anything that dumbass says."

"I believe it when the evidence backs it up."

"You'd better charge me then." McKenzie sounded unconcerned.

"Oh, I will… all in good time. Tell me about taking the Hummer."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

And so it went on. Despite intensive questioning on the subject of the Hummer and Horatio, the man denied everything. Despite _not_ saying 'no comment', he might as well have done. They sent him back to lock-up.

Frank sighed. "We're going to have to make the case without his help. I suppose hoping for three confessions was a bit optimistic."

Eric rang Calleigh. "Please say you got something, Cal…"

"Of course. Oh ye of little faith! One pipe, complete with blood and, I hope, fingerprints. It wasn't hidden – just lying in the ditch. Nat's processing. One Hummer, extremely muddy… _Covered_ in fingerprints…"

"Don't keep me in suspense, woman!" Eric chuckled.

"Don't call me 'woman' then. Seriously, I'm still collecting. I expect they're all yours and Benitez'."

"Not all, hopefully. Check the back seat…"

"Eric Delko, I do know how to process a car."

Hours later, the Hummer had yielded fingerprints from both Rosso, on the driver's side, and McKenzie on the passenger side. And from the roll of duct tape. The back seat gave up fingerprints of McKenzie, and Horatio, and Timmy. A blood smear revealed itself as Horatio's, as did traces of blood on the doorframe. The pipe had fingerprints from McKenzie, and Horatio's blood and hair.

"Enough, do you think?" Eric asked, as he sat with Calleigh and Frank in the layout room, reviewing the evidence.

"Oh, I think so. I'll talk to the State's Attorney. Good job, people…"

* * *

Eric was surprised to find Horatio sitting in a chair, thumbing idly through a magazine.

"Hi, boss. Feeling better?"

He was rewarded with a warm smile. "Much. The dizziness is almost gone. At least, I can get to the bathroom without falling over. I'll be out tomorrow."

"What do the doctors say?"

The bronze eyebrows shot up. "Never mind what the doctors say. _I_ say I'll be out tomorrow."

Eric knew better than argue with him. "Then I'll swing by and pick you up. Lunchtime?"

"That'd be good. Thank you."

"Feel like making a quick formal statement? And doing a photo ID?" Eric grinned. "It's just the cherry on the top. We've got a pretty solid case."

"Sure. Whatever you want. At least, up to the time things got confused…"

"And you undressed."

"And I undressed."

Eric chuckled. "We'll just say that hypothermia set in, and you don't remember anything else clearly." He looked round the room. "I suppose you haven't got any clothes here…"

"I haven't. Will you bring some in?"

* * *

"Thank goodness it's Friday!" Calleigh murmured, pouring herself a coffee in the break room. "What a truly horrible week."

"I know." Eric agreed. "What started as a simple murder, ended with the boss in hospital. Though he's okay – I'm going to collect him in a minute."

"So soon? Is that wise?"

Eric laughed. "Probably not, but you know what he's like. And as the only treatment is rest – I suppose he can do that as well at home." He hesitated. "Look, I'm sorry I sort of… abandoned you all…"

"Eric… I wouldn't expect you to be anywhere else. I know how you feel about him."

"Yes, but…"

"There are times when work _doesn't_ come first. Anyway, he's better, and we solved the case. And it's Friday."

"Shall we celebrate with a beer tonight? All the team, I mean…"

"Good idea. I'll spread the word."

* * *

At six-thirty they gathered in a local bar. Unusually, everyone, including Frank, was present. Everyone, that was, except Eric.

"Where's Delko?" Frank asked. "Not like him to miss a get-together."

"And he owes me a drink," added Calleigh. "No, he said he'd got an errand to run. He'll be here."

Eric arrived half-an-hour later. With Horatio. Their boss was casually dressed in jeans, rather pale, slightly shaky… But with a wry smile on his face.

Calleigh glared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Good evening to you too, Calleigh," he said softly.

"Sorry, but… Eric, how could you?"

Eric held up both hands. "Hey, don't blame me!"

"I'm fine," Horatio added. "I needed to get out. I'm only staying half an hour, and I'm only drinking water… And I promise not to take my clothes off."

He seemed to catch Calleigh's eye as he said it, and the eyebrows twitched a fraction. She felt a blush starting, and turned quickly away.

"Well, it's good to see you," Frank said, about to clap him on the shoulder, but changing it to an awkward pat. "You had us all worried." Then he chuckled. "Who but you could nearly die of hypothermia in the Sunshine State?"

THE END


End file.
